


I'd Love to Change the World

by ImmortalRoot



Category: Fringe (TV), Person of Interest (TV), Warehouse 13
Genre: Angst, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Bloodplay, Crossover, F/F, Femslash, Multi, Slow Burn, Smut, extremely light fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 13:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16388219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalRoot/pseuds/ImmortalRoot
Summary: “Agent Bering, so nice to finally meet you,” a husky voice with an English accent called out to her. A beautiful woman in a waistcoat and black slacks stepped out of the shadows and pointed a gun at her, smirking.“Who the hell are you?” Myka asked angrily, her heart beating so fast she swore it was going to jump out of her mouth.





	I'd Love to Change the World

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always to @EliaAlice for the beta! I really wanted Myka to be on Team Machine and for H.G. to be one of Samaritan's Gays, so here's the first part of my long garbage fic.

Behind a pile of folders, Myka sipped the last of her coffee and dived into the first couple of files. Ever since she transferred from Boston to New York, she had mostly been working desk duty. She wasn’t complaining; it wasn’t like she was in the headspace to get back out on the field yet, not since her partner, Olivia, had died. Three years had passed since she transferred and it still felt like it was only yesterday.

 

Before she knew it, the clock had struck near midnight and the mailman was making his rounds. She expected him to knock but, instead, he slipped her package under the door without a word and left.

 

She stood up immediately and opened her door, trying to see if she could catch him, but he was already long gone. She looked down at the thick yellow envelope before picking it up, realising there was no address.

 

She cautiously examined its contents by feeling the shape of the package. She ripped the envelope open to reveal a golden circular object she had never seen before. Was this a weapon? Was it Top Secret? But there was no file accompanying it…

 

Myka worriedly placed the golden object back in the yellow envelope and returned it in the drawer on her desk that she always kept locked. She finished working on the current file for another forty minutes before she took the yellow envelope out of the drawer, locked her office, and left the building. She kept it close to her ribcage under her black duffle coat.

 

As soon as she was outside in the pitch dark, shots were fired at her from several directions. She ducked, pulled her gun out of her holder and ran down the steps as fast as she could.

 

All of a sudden, two of her black-clad attackers fell.

 

“Agent Bering, so nice to finally meet you,” a husky voice with an English accent called out to her. A beautiful woman in a waistcoat and black slacks stepped out of the shadows and pointed a gun at her, smirking.

 

“Who the hell are you?” Myka asked angrily, her heart beating so fast she swore it was going to jump out of her mouth.

 

“Oh darling, we don’t have time for this, I’m afraid.”

 

The woman cocked her gun, ready to pull the trigger. Myka glared at her, waiting, instead of shooting first. She wasn’t sure why, but something inside her wouldn’t let her react rationally.

 

They stood and stared at each other, guns pointed, for what felt like an eternity. The woman exhaled audibly, looking breathless, which Myka thought was impatience. She gazed at the woman’s long, flowing black hair that seemed to shape her jawline majestically. She wanted to reach out and run her fingers through it, and cup her face in her hands…

 

Their silence was broken when the mysterious beautiful woman was suddenly shot in the arm and Myka turned around to see her sister, Root, ushering her away to safety. However, Myka didn’t escape without being shot in the arm too.

 

“Sorry we’re late, sis,” Root said with a smile as they hid behind a brick wall.

 

“What the hell, Root?! You don’t answer my calls or emails or letters and now you just show up out of nowhere to conveniently save my life?” Myka whispered, the anger in her voice bubbling underneath.

 

“I’ve been a little busy…” Root answered distractedly, trying to shoot at Myka’s attackers.

 

“Wow, that’s what you going to go with? Okay.”

 

Myka ducked behind the wall and tried to shoot at her attackers too.

 

All of a sudden, a car swerved right in front of them. Myka shot at it instinctively.

 

“Myka, that’s my girlfriend, Sameen!” Root scolded her and slapped her on the arm.

 

Myka winced audibly and put pressure on her wounded arm.

 

“Get in,” Shaw urged after rolling down the car window.

 

Root helped a wounded Myka into the backseat before stepping into the passenger seat herself.

 

“Thanks, sweetie,” Root kissed her girlfriend on the cheek.

 

Shaw rolled her eyes as she started the engine and drove off.

 

“Sorry, I tried to shoot at you. I didn’t know…” Myka apologised awkwardly, already feeling out of place as the third wheel.

 

“It’s fine, I’ve been through worse,” Shaw joked. “Root, are you seriously blushing right now?”

 

“You’re adorable,” Root brushed Shaw’s arm softly before giggling.

 

Myka averted her eyes momentarily, feeling like some sort of a voyeur.

 

“Okay, Root, I’m really happy for you, but will someone please tell me what the hell’s going on? How did you guys know how and where to find me? Who was that woman back there? Who were those women and men with her?”

 

“Well, The Machine told me and we came as soon as we could, but there were some minor complications… The woman who was going to shoot you is Helena G. Wells, or H.G. Wells, as you may know her. She works for Samaritan, who has killed most of the people that we’ve tried to save.”

 

“WAIT, H.G. WELLS? AS IN THE ONE AND ONLY H.G. WELLS? H.G. WELLS IS A WOMAN?!?!”

 

Root tilted her head.

 

“Yes, honey, your favourite author is, in fact, a woman.”

 

“I’M GOING TO HAVE TO PROCESS THIS!” Myka was so excited that she almost screamed, at least until her heart dropped as she remembered what just happened. “But she shot me?”

 

“No, Martine Rousseau shot you. She’s the tall blonde. The other tall dark one is Kara Stanton.”

 

Myka quietly wondered why they were all so ridiculously good-looking.

 

“Alright, so what’s The Machine and what’s a Samaritan?”

 

“We’ll show you later, I promise.”

 

*

 

Kara, standing beside a wounded H.G. who sat on the table with her left arm bleeding out, opened a bottle of whiskey and poured herself a drink. Her face was hard as she leaned against the table. She picked up the forceps and, for a second, H.G. expected to stabbed, which would be considered nice, knowing half of the things that Kara was capable of.

 

“You used to be such a heartless bitch,” Kara sighed, pouring alcohol over her wound.

 

“I still am,” H.G. retorted, her husky voice wavering.

 

“You hesitated to kill Myka Bering-” Kara used the forceps to grab the bullet lodged in H.G.’s arm.

 

She twisted the bullet inside the flesh, blood dripping down H.G.’s arm. Her face remained impassive. H.G. tried not to wince, but despite being shot many times before, she could never quite get used to the feeling of her flesh being burnt.

 

H.G. thought about how she’d lost the ability to breathe as she was standing in front of Myka. Her beautiful curly locks nestled around her soft face barely concealed with anger. She swore that Myka saw right through her with her bright hazel brown eyes. And those plump lips… She could swear she’d kill to touch those very lips...

 

“I made a mistake and it won’t happen again.”

 

“We can’t afford mistakes in our line of work.” Kara pulled the bullet out aggressively and dropped it into the metal tray. She cleaned up the wound with cotton buds, sutured it and bandaged it tightly.

 

“Kara, I promise it won’t happen again,” she said, looking at her apologetically.

 

“Helena, you can’t drop your guard for every pretty girl you’re supposed to kill.”

 

“I didn’t drop my guard.”

 

“You know we don’t play with our food.”

 

The door swung open and Martine walked in with her hands in her pockets. She had just changed into a black t-shirt and camouflage trousers and black boots after getting rid of two dead bodies. Her blonde hair was neatly slicked back and tied into a ponytail.

 

“Stanton,” she greeted rigidly.

 

“Rousseau,” Kara nodded.

 

H.G. rolled her eyes as she slipped her white blouse back on, buttoned it up and jumped off the table.

 

“Nice shot back there,” Kara commented, unable to look Martine in the eyes for more than a second.

Martine looked at Kara, fighting the urge to smile.

 

“I was just doing my job, unlike _someone else_.”

 

H.G. ignored Martine’s attempt to upset her. She raised her eyebrows, unable to stand the sexual tension any longer and jumped off the table.

 

“Righty ho then, well, I’m going to do some research, if you two don’t mind.” H.G. swung her waistcoat over one of her shoulders casually.

 

“Don’t fuck her,” Kara warned, her voice sharp, as she grabbed H.G.’s wrist and squeezed it tightly.

 

“Who?” H.G. replied, feigning innocence.

 

“You know exactly who.”

 

H.G. tried to hold Kara’s glare even though she felt like her wrist was going to be snapped. When she let go, H.G. immediately rubbed her wrist, but she didn’t wince out loud. She couldn’t.

 

She walked out of the room, and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. H.G. wished that she could get this Myka Bering out of her head and go back to doing her job properly. She couldn’t remember the last time that someone had floored her so completely...

 

*

 

Martine moaned as Kara kissed her aggressively, her tongue gliding over hers, pressing a knife to Martine’s throat.

 

Kara held her breath as she cut a straight line on the side of Martine’s neck. She rubbed the flowing blood all over Martine’s left cheek and pulled her into another rough kiss.

 

“Tell me, did you mean it when you said that I took a nice shot?” Martine licked her blood off of Kara’s fingers slowly.

 

“Just shut up and let me fuck you,” Kara sighed, the warmth between her legs throbbing unbearably.

 

Martine’s lips burned with hunger as Kara caressed her all over while peeling her clothes off.

 

*

 

Myka followed Root and Shaw back to their headquarters where she was greeted with a cute dog and two men.

 

“This is Bear,” Shaw said as she scratched the top of his head.

 

Myka beamed as she couldn’t resist petting Bear’s neck too.

 

“Ms. Bering, I’m Harold Finch.” He adjusted his glasses and stood up from his desk. “And this is my colleague, John Reese.” They both wore matching black suits, although, Reese had decided to leave his collar up instead of wearing a tie.

 

Reese nodded quietly, leaning awkwardly against a desk beside him.

 

“It’s Agent. Agent Bering,” Myka corrected him, unable to conceal the irritation in her voice.

 

“Oh, my apologies. Ms. Groves only recently mentioned that she had a sister.” Finch tried to smile.

 

Myka glared at him. “Her name is Root.”

 

“WELL, you two seem to be getting along like a house on fire,” Root joked as she raised her eyebrows. “Anyway, Myka, this is The Machine. She’s an AI. She sees everything that you do, have done and possibly will ever do.”

 

“You’re kidding, right? AI’s aren’t real,” Myka scoffed.

 

“Trust me, The Machine is the reason why we’re all still breathing right now. And she is very much an AI.”

 

“You’re telling me that an AI saved my life? Okay, I never thought I’d ever say that.”

 

“Yes. Do you still have the package that you received today?”

 

Myka had forgotten all about the mysterious golden object that she had stuffed in the inside pocket of her coat. She pulled it out and gave it to her sister.

 

“What is it?”

 

“It’s called an astrolabe and that’s all you need to know. We’ll take care of the rest.” Root rubbed Myka’s shoulder.

 

Myka glared at her. “I think you owe me a lot more than that after five years of silence.”

 

Shaw, Reese and Finch made awkward excuses and left the room in a hurry.

 

“It was the only way that I could protect you, sis,” Root sighed apologetically.

 

“Protect me from what? AIs? Victorian British gun-wielding women? I mean, you do know that I’m an FBI agent, right?”

 

“I know, but this is different. We’re fighting a war that we’re losing and the whole world depends on us.”

 

“You should have let me fight with you.”

 

“Myka, you couldn’t even get out of bed for months after Olivia died…”

 

“Don’t you dare bring Olivia into this!” Myka shouted, tears starting to fill her eyes.

 

“I’m sorry, but I did what I had to.”

 

Myka wasn’t sure if she could ever forgive her sister for the years of unwarranted radio silence. All this time she thought that she had hurt Root somehow. But now it was the other way around.

 

“I’ll take you back to my apartment. You should be safe there,” Root told her.

 

Myka wanted to argue but she knew that the only way she would be safe right now would be by listening to her sister instead of fighting her. She swore to herself that she would leave after this all blew over, though.

 

*

 

H.G. sat alone in the control room and pulled up Myka’s file on the computer, eager to learn all about her life.

 

Myka Bering attended Lincoln High School in Colorado Springs, Colorado, and graduated in 2000. She had graduated top of her class at Harvard University. She then went on to work with the Fringe Division in Boston for six years but quit when her partner, Olivia Dunham, died from being shot in the head by Peter Bishop’s father.

 

H.G. raised an eyebrow, wanting to know if this Olivia was her lover. She couldn’t find the answer anywhere on Myka’s file and Samaritan refused to tell her no matter how many times she rephrased her question.

 

Knowing that Greer and Lambert wouldn’t be back from their urgent trip to London to secure an asset for a while, H.G. continued reading Myka’s personal file against orders not to.

 

*

 

Myka sat on the edge of the bathtub, wincing as she sutured her wound. When she was finished stitching herself back together, she held the leftover thread with her teeth. Root, seeing that she looked a little bit overwhelmed, wandered over quickly to help.

 

“Here, I’ll hold it.” She reached out to Myka.

 

“I’ve got it, thanks.” Myka said with the needle of thread still stuck in between her teeth.

 

Root crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.

 

“I forgot just how stubborn you are.”

 

Myka grabbed the scissors by the sink and cut the thread.

 

“Do you know exactly how worried I was about you for the last five years? Hell, mom and dad still think you’re dead.”

 

“I told you, I was protecting you! And mom! And dad!” Root shouted back.

 

“You have a real funny way of showing it,” Myka scoffed.

 

“I couldn’t risk any of you.”

 

“That’s bullshit! Root, if only you saw half the shit that I’ve seen, you wouldn’t have thought twice about not calling.”

 

“That’s not the point. You’re my sister and I love you, okay?”

 

“Well, I love you too, dummy, but that doesn’t mean that I forgive you or anything,” Myka retorted, her forehead creasing.

 

Root walked off with her big dumb smirk.

 

Myka got into bed, her body exhausted but her mind still running. She thought about the empty space beside her and how she longed for Olivia’s touch. She remembered the way Olivia used to wrap her arms around her every night and how she had never felt so safe in her entire life. Tears started to fill her eyes as the memories of kissing Olivia during stake-outs, in locked offices, in bars, flashed in her mind. Myka had lost the only home she had ever known and there was nothing that could ever replace her...

 

*

 

Myka was awoken the next morning by the hot aroma of pancakes wafting in from the kitchen. She yawned as she stretched, before she shuffled out of bed, her head feeling heavy. She walked into the bathroom and changed her bandage. Before she got into the shower, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Would Olivia be proud of her? Would she still have loved her?

 

She got undressed, stepped into the shower and turned the water on. She let it run over her as she massaged soap into her skin. Then she rubbed shampoo onto her hands and into her thick, cascading, curly brown hair.

 

“Myka, breakfast!” she heard Root shout at her outside the bathroom.

 

“Okay, give me five minutes!”

 

She dried herself and patted her voluminous, wavy hair. She brushed her teeth, but not without avoiding looking into the mirror again. She could never stand the way she looked, even when Olivia told her that she looked beautiful all the time.

 

Myka got dressed in the same clothes she was wearing yesterday before she wandered into the kitchen. She found Shaw shoving pancakes into her mouth and Root staring at her lovingly, her chin in her hand, as she did so.

 

“Good morning,” Myka greeted them as she sat down opposite them.

 

“Morning, sis. Pancakes?”

 

“Sure.” Myka took a plate of pancakes and ate even though she was far from hungry.

 

“Did you get any sleep?”

 

“I slept like a baby.” Myka tried to smile.

 

“Liar,” Root accused her immediately. This made Myka chuckle a little.

 

Shaw continued to gorge on her food. Root couldn’t stop beaming at her girlfriend.

 

“So, any news about the astrolabe?” Myka asked awkwardly, feeling like she was interrupting a date.

 

“Yeah. Finch called us an hour ago to tell us that it’s safe. He knows a guy,” Root responded, shrugging.

 

“And that doesn’t sound fishy to you?”

 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about him. He would never do anything to risk the team.”

 

“What’s the astrolabe even used for, anyway? What does it do, exactly?” Myka asked curiously.

 

“Well, sis, you don’t need to worry-”

 

Root’s face changed suddenly as she knocked the table over and grabbed both Myka and Shaw to shield them from an onslaught of bullets.

 

Myka felt around her waist for her gun, but realised that she had left it on the bedside table with her gun holder.

 

“Shit! How did they find us?” Myka asked worriedly.

 

Shaw pulled out her gun and fired at Samaritan’s agents without blinking.

 

“How do you think we found you?” Root replied distractedly.

 

“Okay, point taken. Cover me while I go get my gun,” Myka ordered before immediately running away from the metal table shielding them and into the corner by the fridge.

 

Root cursed her sister and pressed her hand against her ear, listening carefully to what The Machine was telling her. Shaw continued to fire back and reloaded her gun twice.

 

Myka peeked behind the kitchen wall and gasped audibly as she saw H.G. walk through the bedroom clad in a brown leather jacket, a white shirt, black jeans and high-heeled boots. The Samaritan agent pointed a gun with her sleek leather-gloved hands.

 

“Agent Bering, I know you’re in there,” H.G. announced loudly, her voice smooth as velvet. Myka swore that she heard her chuckle as she said it.

 

Myka panicked, looking around the kitchen for weapons. She impulsively grabbed the frying pan and held onto it, bracing herself for whoever was going to attack her next.

 

“YOU BITCH!” She heard Root yell loudly from the other room.

 

Myka stuck her head out of the kitchen and saw Root strangling Martine and Shaw punching Kara in the face.

 

Before she knew it, H.G. sneaked up behind her and pressed a gun to the side of her head. She couldn’t breathe as she felt H.G.’s arm wrap around her waist tightly. Her body began to radiate with warmth as H.G. pressed against her back.

 

“You’re not very good at this, are you darling?” H.G. whispered into Myka’s ear, her voice low and raspy.

 

 _Fuck me,_ Myka thought before she elbowed H.G. in the stomach and hit her face with the frying pan.

 

H.G. wiped the blood off the side of her lip with her tongue and smirked.

 

“Is that all you’ve got?”

 

“Oh, I’ve got a lot more where that came from, lady,” Myka said with as much malice as she could muster, gritting her teeth.

 

She tried to throw punches at H.G. but failed miserably. H.G. quickly pulled Myka into a headlock and punched her in the stomach, before slamming her against the fridge. She panted heavily, her breath hot and thick, barely brushing Myka’s lips. Myka’s heart started racing as she stared back into H.G.’s eyes. She could feel electricity pulsate through her body. Myka stopped breathing.

 

Without warning, H.G. pulled herself away. She looked distracted. In the distance, Myka could hear Martine and Kara running off.

 

“Better luck next time, darling,” H.G. murmured against Myka’s cheek.

 

Feeling her lips on her cheek made Myka weak. She stumbled over to a tabletop and held onto the edge before she collapsed.

 

Root ran in from the dining room. “Myka, are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine. Are you and Shaw okay?” she asked as she followed Root.

 

She found Shaw lifting part of her sweater up to reveal a nasty gunshot wound to the stomach.

 

“I’ve never felt better.” Shaw said sarcastically, sweat coating her forehead.

 

“Sweetie, we’ve gotta get you patched up.”

 

“No, I’m fine, I can patch myself up when we get back to headquarters.”

 

Shaw rolled her eyes wearily as Root put her arm over her shoulder, half-carrying her. Myka grabbed her gun from the bedroom and followed suit.

 

*

 

Myka looked at the board of Samaritan’s agents, reading their files carefully. She tried hard to shake off the memory of H.G.’s hot, heavy breath so close to her…

 

 _I’m gonna kill her,_ she thought.

 

Reese, tall and lanky, in his black duffel coat, wandered in with cups of coffee for everyone.

 

“Root, I’m so sorry about your apartment,” Myka said, frowning.

 

“It’s not your fault. I should have known that my apartment would be one of the first places that they’d go looking for you.”

 

“But where will you stay now?”

 

“Here. It doesn’t matter as long as you’re safe.”

 

Myka squeezed Root’s arm. She wasn’t quite sure they were at the hugging stage yet. Sure, Root had saved her life. But Myka hated being lied to, more than anything, and it would take a lot more to fix the hurt she had been through in those five years of silence. If they could fix it at all.

 

“So, where are Samaritan’s agents right now?” Myka asked curiously, taking a cup of coffee and thanking Reese with a nod.

 

She was eager to find more information on Samaritan and the tall, mysterious, beautiful women who attacked her so that she could figure out a way to end this.

 

“Unfortunately, with Samaritan offline, we’re unable to find them at the moment,” Finch replied, swirling back around in his desktop chair. “Although, Ms. Bering-”

 

“Agent Bering,” Myka corrected him again. She wanted to smack him.

 

“Agent Bering, my apologies,” Finch continued. “We were wondering if you would like to help us a little longer?”

 

“Help you?”

 

Myka raised an eyebrow, afraid of what he might say next.

 

“Yes.”

 

“What he means, is, would you like to join us? We could use your expertise and your FBI access, sis,” Root said as she sipped her coffee.

 

“Root, I can’t just betray the FBI. It’s my job we’re talking about here.”

 

Her job at the Bureau was the only thing that still held her together. It was the only thing she had left of Olivia and she didn’t want to lose it for anything or anyone.

 

“We’re not asking you to quit your job. We’re asking you to help us take down Samaritan once and for all. We need you.”

 

Myka sighed pessimistically. On the one hand, she wanted to get back to her life as soon as possible, forgetting any of this ever happened. It would be easier. On the other hand, she wanted to shoot H.G. Wells in the head but also kiss her at the same time…


End file.
